


The Spoils of War

by squilf



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Come Swallowing, Cunnilingus, F/M, Finger Sucking, Men Crying, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squilf/pseuds/squilf
Summary: Yon-Rogg knows his place, and it’s at her feet.





	The Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, this movie made me really horny for Jude Law. The skimpy kimono. The tight jogging bottoms. The man exudes hot dad energy, and I am _here_ for it. 
> 
> I definitely have a soft spot for female protagonist/male villain relationships (not that I think Yon-Rogg is _really_ a villain, but that’s another matter), so falling for this ship was ridiculously predictable of me. But I think we all know that Vers is a top and Yon-Rogg just wants her to wreck him.
> 
> This is dedicated to the lovely [roggvers](https://roggvers.tumblr.com/), who is such a sweet and dedicated fan of this pairing. Your positivity really inspired me. Inspired me to write terribly horny PWP, but still!
> 
> Also big love to [TheAlchemistsDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAlchemistsDaughter/) for helping me when I ran into some er, technical difficulties (i.e. not knowing where they were or how they got naked.) Now I just need someone to help me when that happens to me...

Yon-Rogg wakes up with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He’s crumpled on the cold floor of what looks like a beaten-up smuggler ship, and he’s _freezing_. He cracks his eyes open, wincing with the effort. Vers’ face is close to his, her lips parted.

“You look awful,” she says.

“I’m fine,” Yon-Rogg says, “Thanks for asking.”

She’s probably right. He’s not who he used to be. He’s no longer clean shaven, his beard a messy scruff. His hair is longer, curling around his ears, down the nape of his neck.

He blinks, his vision slowly coming into focus. Vers hasn’t changed. If anything, she’s grown more beautiful. But then, absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

Vers scoffs. She draws herself up to her full height. Her hair has grown, too, tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders. Yon-Rogg looks up at her, every inch a queen. So powerful, so strong and golden. He probably shouldn’t have tried to arrest her.

“Miss telling me what to do?” she says.

“No, I –” Yon-Rogg starts, and then he looks down, and, _well_ , “I’m sorry, is there a reason why I’m naked?”

Vers looks him up and down.

“Yeah.”

He coughs, his face hot with embarrassment.

“What?” she says, “Don’t like it so much when I’m the one in control?”

Yon-Rogg bites his lip, tries to shift himself to a more modest position, but her gaze has already fallen to his lap. His cock is already straining upwards, flushed dark with blood.

“Oh,” she says, “You _do_.”

Yon-Rogg knows his place, and it’s at her feet.

He pushes himself to his knees. Head tilted back to look at her, the line of his throat exposed, vulnerable. Her eyes flick down to him. Her expression is composed, regal. She could wreck him again, press her palm to the side of his face and burn him out, but she _doesn’t_ , and oh, he adores her for it. Vers runs her thumb across his lower lip.

“I think I like you on your knees.”

She presses her fingers into his mouth and he takes them, licks them, covers them in spit.

She’s not so distant and cold, this Vers. There’s heat in her eyes, a heat he recognises from early-morning spars. The press of her body on his and the challenge in her smile made him _ache_. And he ached until he couldn’t sleep for thinking of her. There were tabs for that, of course, but they would have made him numb, and he wanted to feel. He’d spill into his hand thinking of her, biting into his pillow so he couldn’t cry out, and he felt ashamed every time, but at least he _felt_.

Perhaps he got too used to the shame. Perhaps that’s why he wants her to use him now. Wants her to push her pussy into his face and fuck him. He’s not aching anymore – he’s burning.

“Please,” he whispers.

Vers strips off her suit – still garishly coloured red, blue and gold – and then it’s just _her_ , standing before him, utterly unashamed. Yon-Rogg drinks her in. Laps up the pale, soft skin, the blue veins and taut muscles mapped out beneath the surface.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.

Vers fists her hand in his hair and pulls.

It sends bolts of pain right through him, and it’s _good_. She pulls him upwards until his face is pressed against her groin, and he gasps. There are coarse, dark hairs here, and he strokes them with the backs of his fingers, up and down. He breathes in through his nose, eyes shut, and he can smell her, salty and fragrant.

“Oh, _oh_ ,” he says.

“You gonna do anything while you’re down there?”

Yon-Rogg chuckles. Keeps stroking her, fingers light and unhurried.

“You never were very patient.”

“I never let you do this.”

“But I wished you would.”

His voice is low and breathy, and his hand dips lower.

“Against Starforce regulations,” she says.

“Bringing you back to Hala was against Starforce regulations.”

Vers pushes him away. The force of it surprises him.

“You _abducted_ me.”

She’s beautiful when she’s angry, the power building inside her hot like molten gold.

“I wanted you,” he says.

Because he did, even then. She intrigued him, this human, so fearless, so selfless. An alien starship shot down her plane and there she was, alive and kicking and defiant. Ready to die for something bigger than herself.

Yon-Rogg always felt responsible for her. He was the reason she gained her powers, the reason her human body became strong enough to withstand them, the reason she learned to fight and strategise. She was a weapon that he had sharpened, refined. A weapon that had turned against them.

He moves forwards and starts to kiss her thighs, small, gentle kisses. His hands reach up to hold her legs, move them apart.

“I was going to ask for you,” he says.

“What?”

“When the war was over. When the Supreme Intelligence asked me what should compensate my service.”

Most asked for money on their discharge. Money or land or position. But that wasn’t what Yon-Rogg wanted, and the Supreme Intelligence would know it. People would think him foolish. A commander falling for his young protégé. It happened, of course. There was always gossip of affairs within Starforce, but few resulted in marriage.

The Kree, after all, didn’t marry for love. They married for wealth, for power, for title. And for blood. Pure, noble, Kree blood was more important than anything. Yon-Rogg’s was impure, tainted by interspecies marriage, the centuries-old mistake obvious in his pink skin. But he’d risen beyond his birth. He was a Kree warrior. He would be deemed worthy of a mate that bettered him.

Vers came from C-53 with nothing. Her only Kree blood is his. But she was the first and last thing he wanted. He could never ask for anything else.

“They would have _given_ me to you?” Vers says.

Yon-Rogg chuckles at the disgust in her voice.

“I wouldn’t have complained if they had. All I was hoping for was the chance to ask you to marry me.”

 _Ask_. He would have begged if he had to. He pulls away, looks up at her.

“Would you have refused me?”

He bites his lip, tries not to betray how often he’s asked himself that question. How often he’s wondered what she’d have done, if things had been different. If she’d never found out who she really was, what she was capable of doing.

Vers squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head tightly, as if it hurts her to do so.

And he feels _robbed_.

The Kree would never let Vers go back to where she was from. She was too powerful, too dangerous. Yon-Rogg wasn’t sure what they’d do with her. But she’d be safe, as his mate. He would _keep_ her safe. But he wanted her to come willingly. He wanted her to _want_ to be his.

“I would have been so good to you,” he says.

He moves his hands to the backs of her thighs, just beneath her arse, and pulls her closer, digging his fingers in.

“You have _no_ idea,” he says, and gently pushes his tongue out and licks her clit.

Yon-Rogg would have been a good mate. He would have doted on her, given her anything she wanted. Anything to keep her happy, to keep her _his_.

He groans at the taste of her. Like seawater, but sweeter. Oh, he would have done this for her. He would have done this every night if she’d let him, and maybe some mornings, too. Maybe they’d still train together at dawn, and it would end like this. He laps at her gently, his tongue stroking up and down her clit.

“Fuck, keep doing that,” Vers breathes.

She pushes his face deeper and he can’t help but smile. He presses an open mouthed kiss to her clit, licking and slurping, loud and wet. It’s swollen against his tongue, and she gasps and moans and rakes her fingers through his hair.

He hums, sucking at her clit. He worries it between his lips, up and down and around, and she makes a sound like he’s _killing_ her. He moves his hands up to cup her arse, and he groans wetly as he grabs the soft flesh. He’s always adored the soft curves of her. So feminine despite her coiled strength.

He’s drooling, his saliva running down her pussy. His mouth is already messy with her, and he can feel it on his chin, and it’s fucking _glorious_.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” she says, and it’s so raw, so desperate.

She’s close, Yon-Rogg realises, she’s close _already_. He grins and flicks his tongue against her clit.

“Make me cum,” she gasps, “Make me cum, make me –”

Her words end in a scream. He licks her through it, feels the orgasm pulse through her, and he doesn’t stop until her hands are cupping his face and pushing him away.

He leans back so she can see him, his lips red and puffy and sticky. He wants her to see what she’s done to him. He wasn’t expecting her to look just as wrecked, but she does. Her mouth is open, her eyes dark and glassy, hair falling over her face.

He breaks into a smile. Right now, Vers isn’t a warrior or a weapon – she’s a woman. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to look at her and see that.

“I always wanted to make it good for you,” he pants.

It’s funny, really. Yon-Rogg used to want to be her protector, her mate. And now here he is, on his knees, happy to be used. Wanting it, even. He can’t explain how much he wants to please her. How he wants to know that’s the reason she doesn’t destroy him. He could be hers to play with, to fuck, to make dirty and leave. Just so long as he could be hers. Maybe he’s just learned to take what he can get. Or maybe this is what he always wanted. For him to be _hers_ , rather than for her to be his. Maybe he can only admit that now.

Vers is still holding his head in her hands, stroking him with her thumbs, and it’s so gentle, so intimate, it knocks the breath out of him.

“ _Vers_ …” he says, and then he’s surging forwards and pushing his tongue hungrily into her pussy.

He wants to bury himself inside her, be _covered_ in her. His hand slips down from her arse to her pussy, and he full-body _groans_ when his fingers brush against it. She’s so wet for him, soaked with her fluids and his.

He briefly imagines how his cum would look dripping out of her, running down her legs, and shivers. His cock is rock hard and gagging to be touched, but he ignores it. He needs to _earn_ that. Right now, Vers’ pussy is soft and slick, and his finger slides easily into the place where she’s opened up for him.

“Oh _fuck,_ yes,” she moans, her hands twining in his hair.

Yon-Rogg hums, his lips on her clit. He adds another finger, feeling the way she stretches for him, and then he has to stop and catch his breath for a second because he’s _inside_ her and she’s so hot and slick and _tight_.

He works his fingers in and out and her pussy squeezes around them, and he moans against the wet heat of her because this is good, this is _so_ good.

“Just like that,” Vers says, “Just like that, yeah make me cum again.”

Yon-Rogg shuts his eyes and keeps stroking her, his fingers making a squelching sound as he quickens his pace, and then Vers is pulling his hair and screaming, and he could do this forever, he could do this until he _dies_.

He slows, feeling her muscles contract and pulse around his fingers. And then he keeps going. Vers whines, oversensitive, and it makes something hot and dark pool in Yon-Rogg’s stomach. He might be at her feet, but he can still do this to her. He can still push her, still make it too much. It’s both an act of worship and a challenge, this mating. And that suits them, really, this contradiction, this adoration and control and deference and pride.

He pushes a third finger into her.

“Yon-Rogg!” Vers gasps.

He _groans_ at that, the sound rushing out of him without thinking. He didn’t realise how much he needed to hear her say that.

“You like that?” she says.

He shuts his eyes and nods earnestly.

“You like it when I say your name?” she says.

Vers sounds cocky, the way she used to when they were sparring. He was always indulgent with her, let her insist that she was falling down _anyway_ before he hit her, incredulous but playing along with her paper-thin pretence. It was a game, a flirtation, a way for her to always have the upper hand.

She doesn’t have it now. Yon-Rogg curls his fingers inside her, pushing the pads of his fingers against a place that makes her gasp and tremble. He steals a look at her, and she’s wide-eyed and silent, her cheeks flushed red.

“Yeah,” he says, “Say my name.”

Vers bites her lip, hard.

“Fuck you,” she spits.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

He pushes his fingers deeper, drags them out, setting an agonisingly slow rhythm. Her pussy is so tight, gripping onto him, and he really, _really_ wants to do this with his cock, but he has a point to make first. Vers grinds down onto him and shoves his head back towards her pussy, and yeah, _now_ she’s fucking him. Yon-Rogg licks the way from her clit to where his fingers are penetrating her, slathering her with his spit. Then back again.

“Yon-Rogg,” she chants, “Yon-Rogg, Yon-Rogg, Yon…”

This time her orgasm hits like a wave. He feels every bit of it, knuckle-deep inside her. She cries out, hoarse and wrecked, and only when he’s wrung out every second of it does he pull his fingers out. He studies them, the thick, clear fluid hanging in strings between them. And then he looks Vers in the eye and sucks each finger into his mouth, one by one.

“Filthy,” Vers says, but she’s shaking, her knees buckling under the weight of her.

Yon-Rogg quickly takes hold of her by the waist, gently guiding her as she crumples down to her knees. She’s damp with sweat, her hair messed, just the way she used to look after sparring. But there’s a new glow to her cheeks, a darkness to her heavy-lidded eyes, and he takes pleasure in knowing how he put that there.

“You really are beautiful,” he breathes, ghosting the back of his hand against her cheek.

Vers leans closer and kisses him, and her taste is still in his mouth, but maybe that’s what she wants to taste. She licks his mouth open and sucks on his tongue, and when she pulls away he’s breathless, chasing her mouth for another kiss. She lets him take it, all languid bliss, lets him slide his hands down to her breasts. They’re soft and full, and Yon-Rogg can’t keep himself from moaning gently as he touches them.

He used to feel a stab of guilt every time his gaze wandered to her breasts, every time he imagined taking them in his hands or sucking on a rosy nipple. Now his fingers are pinching and pressing on them, hard and possessive, and Vers is hissing through her teeth but she’s not telling him to stop. She doesn’t have to give him that courtesy. She could _make_ him stop – kill him, even, if he displeases her – and he would be powerless to prevent it. And it makes Yon-Rogg _hard_.

Vers moves closer, trapping his cock between them. Precum smears across her belly. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. He can feel her smile against his lips, and he smiles back. He imagined their wedding-night would have been something like this. He’d have guided her, like he always did, gentle but firm, his emotions tempered with judgement. He’d have made her feel safe, wanted, _adored_. He’d have made her feel like she had made the right choice.

“I’m yours,” Yon-Rogg gasps into her mouth, “All yours, Vers.”

Because he is, and he has been for a long time, and he expects he always will be.

“Yeah,” Vers says, “I know.”

And then she reaches down and takes his cock in her hand. And guides it into her pussy. Yon-Rogg’s eyes flutter shut, and then there’s nothing but the white-hot heat of her. It makes something inside him _break_ , and he whines, high and needy, and he doesn’t care. He stills for a moment, just breathing, just _feeling_. His hands slide down to the small of her back.

“Come _here_ ,” he growls.

He sits back on his knees and pulls Vers towards him, up onto his lap. She laughs a little in surprise and straddles him easily, hooking her legs around him and throwing her arms around his neck. And oh, he could get used to this, to having Vers wrapped entirely around him, possessing him. He grabs her arse and pulls her closer. Vers flashes him a wry grin.

“Better?” she says.

Yon-Rogg pushes her up, then slowly lets her sink down on the full length of his cock. It makes her open her mouth like she wants to scream and dig her nails into his neck. She stares at him, struck dumb.

“Oh, much better,” he says.

His hips snap forwards, unable to control the urge to _move_ , and he’s going to lose it if she doesn’t take control _right now_.

“Fuck me,” he pleads.

Vers tilts her pelvis up, then lowers herself back onto his cock. Very, very slowly.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” she says.

And it _is_. Her hips start rolling gently, short, shallow thrusts that rock their bodies together. Yon-Rogg feels like he’s on fire. He’s coiled up and desperate for release. But he can’t have that. Not until Vers has had her fill of his cock. Not until Vers says when.

He wants to cum, to spill himself inside her. She might not be able to bear Kree children, they said, during the transfusion. It seemed unimportant at the time, just one of the possible side effects of becoming a human-Kree hybrid. Yon-Rogg thought about it more, later. When he realised how he wanted her. How jealous, how unreasonable it was. He would have Vers, and no other. If her body could bear his blood, it could bear his child. He thought of it, some nights. Imagined how she would look with her belly swollen, her breasts heavy with milk. His beautiful, golden bride, ripe with motherhood. It was a fantasy, a dream, something he hid between sweat-stained sheets. And ever since she knocked him down and dragged him through the dirt, it’s almost like that’s what she was. A dream that he’s woken up from.

Vers kisses Yon-Rogg, nipping a little at his bottom lip, and yeah, she’s real enough now.

“Yon-Rogg,” she says, and her voice is strangled and high, “Yon-Rogg…”

He can _feel_ her pussy tightening around him, and he takes her head in his hands and kisses her hard, his tongue twisting against hers. He wants her to cum like this, and she’s going to, she’s _going_ to, she’s – her whole body stills, and then she’s _moaning_ against his mouth, her pussy pulsing around him. She grabs onto him, totally gone, and Yon-Rogg grins, peppering her open mouth with kisses.

“Vers,” he breathes, “Oh, my darling.”

He pulls away and looks at her, and she’s gorgeous. Her pupils blown wide, her hair sticking to her neck with sweat, her lips red from kissing. She’s soft and boneless in his arms, defenceless and vulnerable, and for once, _he_ has the upper hand. Now is the moment when he could really hurt her. But she’s here, giving herself over to her orgasm, trusting him to hold her, to keep her safe.

When Vers looks back at him, his eyes are bright and pricking with tears. She touches his face, her hands trembling a little, and he laughs. He’s making a fool of himself, and he expects her to point it out, to tease him. But she doesn’t. She just says, “Your turn.”

Yon-Rogg shifts a little. His cock is still deep inside her, aching and heavy with blood.

“More,” he gasps, “I need more.”

His hips snap, pushing her backwards. She falls onto her back, taking him with her, and he presses his cock deeper, deeper, burying himself inside her to the hilt. And then he’s fucking her, his movements fast and hard, and he’s not holding back. Vers throws her head back, her flame of hair splayed out on the floor, and Yon-Rogg bites and sucks at her neck. He can feel his orgasm building, and it’s not going to be much longer now.

“I love you,” he says, and it’s like the words are being torn out from inside him, “I love you so much, Vers.”

He cums, and it feels as though his heart is breaking. His vision whites out and his ears are ringing and it’s so good he might _die_. There’s cum shooting out of him, filling Vers up, and he thinks he’s screaming, or maybe she is. He collapses in a heap on top of her, panting and shaking, his limbs heavy and his heart pounding.

Vers cradles his head and strokes his hair, and it’s so gentle and reassuring it breaks his heart all over again. He buries his face in her neck and cries, the sobs dry and heavy and wracking his whole body. He knows vaguely that he should be embarrassed, that he should apologise, but he can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even _think_.

They stay that way for a little while, until Yon-Rogg falls silent, his breaths deep and even. He groans and pushes himself up, hands braced either side of Vers’ head. He sniffs and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, giving her a watery smile.

“I should, um,” he says, looking down at where their bodies are still joined.

He reaches down and gently pulls his cock out of her, feeling something sticky coat his fingers.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, and then he’s crawling down to put his face between her legs.

Her pussy is flushed red and glistening and _messy_ , and Yon-Rogg licks a long stripe from her hole up to her clit. She tastes of him, and of her, too, their fluids mingling together on his tongue. Vers moans, and then he pushes his tongue into her, deep as he can, and _that_ makes her scream.

He cleans her up, swallows the cum leaking out of her. There’s more inside her pussy, but he doesn’t suck it out. Maybe because he’s exhausted, and Vers isn’t going to need much more to push her over the edge, overstimulated as she is. Or maybe because of an old and nearly-forgotten dream of a golden-haired babe.

“Yon-Rogg!” Vers moans, and she’s tensing and twisting in a way that he recognises now, a way that he’s never going to forget.

Yon-Rogg smiles and presses a final kiss to her clit, starting a trail up towards her stomach. He wants to kiss every part of her, sear each inch of skin with his adoration. He wants to do this for _hours_. But he can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t have that long.

“ _Filthy_ ,” Vers pants, “So filthy.”

Yon-Rogg’s kisses have reached the space between her breasts, close to a fluttering heart he doesn’t understand. He knows his own heart, knows that he fell in love with Vers years ago. It was a fragile love, forbidden and unspoken, but not without hope. He watched, and he waited, and he wanted. He ventured nothing, and yet still lost everything. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go.

And yet here they are, grasping for each other at the end of the universe, in the middle of a war. A war he doesn’t really want to win. The Supreme Intelligence must know it. The spoils will never be what he wants.


End file.
